The Nature of Harry
by ayadaya
Summary: Harry's rather lost at the moment. He needs a purpose. He needs a reason to live. HPDM Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

This story follows Deathly Hollows, but disregards the last chapter. I understand that J.K. Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter and I am only allowed to play with her characters. This is my first story. I appreciate any constructive criticism you can give, but please no flames. Also, I'm an American and not really familiar with British grammar; I'm sorry. Let me know what mistakes I make and I'll do my best to correct them.

Chapter 1

Unsurprisingly, the Malfoys had suffered little from their misplaced loyalty in the Dark Lord. Judging by the size and splendor of Malfoy manor, any money lost in bribing the ministry had hardly made a dent in their infamous fortune.

Just stepping inside made Harry feel small and insignificant, instantly questioning his ability to perform his task. There was no timid house elf to let him in, rather a well-dressed butler politely but coolly led him to the sitting room and left him standing there with no real explanation- only the hope that he'd gone to fetch Malfoy.

The ten minute wait did little to quell his queasy stomach. He felt positively absurd standing there with his shabby briefcase and thrown-together robes. It was at times like these that he wished he had listened to Hermione and used the fortune burrowed away under Gringotts. Despite knowing it was his to use, he still felt highly uncomfortable touching any of his godfather's money. Any time he was forced to visit the bank, the image of his godfather falling through the veil and the inevitable guilt that followed quickly derailed any ideas of taking more than what was absolutely needed.

Of course, that brought Harry back to why he was here- meeting with the last member of the House of Black. He hoped that in some small way this could be a penance for the impulsive behavior that had been the ultimate cause for his godfather's death. If nothing else, he'd no longer have the burden of his godfather's money and less reminders of Harry's role in his death.

"Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The patented Malfoy sneer was on full display as he sauntered into the room. Acting fully his part as "Lord of the Manor," he gestured to a seat across from him. "Please, sit down. You look positively lost standing there. Surely you are not so destitute that my home makes you that uncomfortable."

Harry, both comforted by the familiar teasing and startled that he was that transparent, took a seat across from his archrival and prepared himself.

"I know it has been sometime since my godfather died… I'm sorry for not realizing sooner your rights to the accounts he left me." At this point he opened his briefcase with shaky hands to withdraw the documents he'd picked up from Gringotts that morning. "With your signature at the bottom of this page, you will be recognized as the true owner of that inheritance and all of the Black vaults will immediately be transferred to your name." He held out the paper and cursed his hand. Why could it not stay still?

Malfoy simply stared at him, arms crossed, showing no intention of taking what he offered. Abruptly he leaned forward so quickly and so far Harry felt the need to lean backwards, he looked directly into Harry's eyes and whispered, "Am I to understand that you are transferring to me your sole source of livelihood?"

He leaned back slightly to study the document and then transferred his attention back to Harry. "The savior of the wizarding world is giving a death eater access to his vaults- no, not simply access but ownership? Have you sunken so low that you no longer trust yourself with anything of worth?" He leaned back in his chair and actually laughed.

Harry, feeling somewhat despondent and shaken, came back to himself and realized how pathetic he must look. With his personal space once again restored, he quickly resumed his original pose and placed the subject of discussion on the side table to his right. "Believe what you will. Gringotts expects this back to them within 72 hours." He got up to leave when a hand intercepted his arm.

Half turning Harry noticed that all snobbish disregard had left Malfoy, "I'm afraid I cannot accept," He stood, coming so close that Harry could feel Malfoy's warm breath on his cheek. "If this," he grabbed the paper Harry had abandoned and shoved it back in his hand, "were meant to pass to me it would have done so. A will of a wizard will change if his intentions at death were different from when he had originally written the will."

Harry's breath caught and his knees nearly gave out. The roaring in his ears covered Malfoy's deprecating addition regarding Harry's limited knowledge of wizarding traditions.

Could Sirius have really forgiven him? Even before he'd died? Does that even count?

With little more than a backward glance, Harry found his feet and all but ran out of the house. He no longer had any reason to be there.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been two months since he had met with Malfoy. Before that point he'd only rarely thought of his archrival and when he did it was always more of a passing thought- easily disregarded. Things had changed.

Harry had gone to Malfoy manor to resolve one issue of his life, only to be ensnared in a whole new predicament. He was coming to realize, to his dismay, that he Draco Malfoy was inescapable. He was everywhere- in every newspaper, bar conversation, and political debate. It seemed that Malfoy had more influence than Harry did!

Though, realistically that was hardly a shock. It had been four years since they had both lived within Hogwarts walls. Malfoy had gone on to fill his father's footsteps in the business world, while Harry had done… very little. He knew he was young and had his whole life ahead of him, but sometimes he felt like he'd already accomplished his purpose in life.

The wizarding world was, unsurprisingly, very forgiving of their savior's inaction. They seemed to agree with his thinking that he deserved a few years of peace now that he'd rid them all of the menace that had plagued them for years. But recently, people had begun to wonder if he might ever get back on his feet and become the person they all thought he ought to be.

Harry had mostly ignored them, caring little whether he lived up to their standards or not. No it was not the public that hassled him, it was Hermione.

She and Ron had wasted no time once school was over. They had gotten married the summer after the war with less than a two month engagement period. He had never known Hermione to be so impulsive. Though Ron had wanted to start having children right away, Hermione had insisted that she finish school before any of _that _happened. They had gone off to get her CATTs (Certificate of Achieving Thaumaturgical Talent) in the Netherlands and only recently returned. She was now among the top most educated wizards and witches in the ministry and was considering running for office.

However, her current project was Harry. She believed that he was a in a rut and needed some direction. He'd tried telling her that he was content- that she should just leave him alone, but that had only been met with a calculating gleam in her eye. He had been set up on a blind date the next week with the explanation that he had been alone far too long and that it was for his own good. Yes, Hermione was definitely more of a concern than the public.

Now he was troubled by something even more pressing. Lately, it almost seemed as if Harry was drawn to any and all things Malfoy. He found himself frequently looking through the paper. He went to Diagon Alley more. He purchased a subscription to magazines. With each venture he'd assured himself that it was good for him to read the news and get out more, but he couldn't rid himself of the underlying reason to each action. Every time he read Malfoy's name he felt that breathe on his cheek. Each time he went to Diagon Alley, he strained his ears for that patronizing laugh.

Draco Malfoy had never once been kind to him. He was nothing but a snobbish pest, but he could occasionally (and only occasionally) be a… pleasant pest.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you for coming Mr. Potter. We were starting to think you'd dropped of the face of the earth!" The Minister of Magic gave him a toothy grin.

Harry stuck his hand out, "I'm happy I could be here, Minister."

Ignoring the hand, the Minister pulled him into a hug. Completely startled, Harry patted his back with one hand and stepped back quickly. "Oh, I think you can call me Marty, Harry. Let's not be strangers."

Nodding politely, Harry moved on to find Hermione and Ron. Truthfully, he never would have come, but he needed to support Hermione in some new project. Hell, he didn't even know what this party was about.

Looking back at the Minister suspiciously, Harry wondered if he had gotten word that Hermione was thinking of running. Perhaps he had decided that _he_ wanted to be friends with the boy-who-lived, or maybe he was trying to downplay Hermione's importance in his life. As if everyone didn't already know that they had been friends since they were eleven.

As he walked towards Hermione he saw a flash of white bond hair out of the corner of his eye. Jerking his head to the side, he confirmed that it was Malfoy. Suddenly his palms seemed very clammy and he seemed unable to decide which direction he should travel.

Why does he even want to see Malfoy? What would he even say to him?

Realizing that he was about to make a fool of himself, he turned back towards Hermione. As he approached them, Ron came up and clapped him on the back, "Hey mate, glad you could come. We were hoping you could come to dinner this Sunday. Hermione's got a new chick she wants you to meet."

Hermione gave Ron a small glare; obviously he wasn't supposed to know that until he'd gotten there. "She really is quite a catch Harry."

"Hermione, I promise you that as soon as I decide I want to date a girl I will let you know," secretly grinning at his roundabout way of answering the question. Of course he'd never date a girl, they weren't his preference.

Abruptly changing the subject, Harry asked "What is this party about?" Wishing he could add on: _and why is Malfoy here?_

Ron simply looked at him as if he were stupid. Hermione giggled for a moment before she realized that he wasn't joking… that he really didn't know. Slowly she said "Harry, I know you've been out of it, but I didn't know it was this bad. This is the fifth anniversary of Voldemort's death. This isn't one of my projects. We're celebrating you."

Feeling a bit dizzy with the knowledge he'd forgotten the most important date in his life, he looked around to see that people were glancing at him quite frequently. He probably hadn't noticed because that was always the case. This time they really did have a reason for it. "Oh, sorry, I guess I am a little out of it."

Ron simply nodded his head dumbly while Hermione got that concerned look on his face. Harry decided that it was time to leave. He never would have come if he'd known the reason behind the party. "Well, looks like everyone is having a lot of fun. I hope you two enjoy yourselves. I need to take off. Things to do, people to see. You know how it is."

This was met with incredulous looks, both knowing that he had nothing else to do tonight. Hermione's concerned look was back full force, but she didn't protest. "We'll see you soon Harry."

He gave them a wave and quickly walked to the hall leading to the exit. A sense of déjà vu stole over him as someone snatched his arm. "Leaving so soon Potter?"

Harry swallowed. "Malfoy. What's it to you?" Silently Harry berated himself for being defensive.

"You'd think Harry Potter would be able to socialize for more than two minutes. First walking out of my manor without so much as a wave good bye, and now a party in honor of you and you don't have the decency to attend for ten minutes." Malfoy did have a point. Harry had become somewhat of a hermit.

"Again, what's it to you?"

"Just observing." Malfoy gave him an unreadable look. "You know Potter, I've been thinking… about the Black accounts." Harry's breath caught. No! Now that he knew (or hoped) that Sirius had forgiven him, he really didn't want to give up anything of his godfathers.

"What about them? You said you couldn't accept."

"I'm not really interested in the money. I have more than enough. However, after thinking on it, I realized there were several Black heirlooms that would mean nothing to you- but a great deal to me. I do cherish my heritage, and although I have many posessions from the Malfoy line- my mother left little behind of the Blacks."

Harry hadn't considered any of this when he'd offered the vaults to Malfoy. Of course this would be what he was interested in.

Malfoy continued, "if you wouldn't be adverse to an exchange, I would, of course, need to peruse the vaults before purchasing the artifacts."

"No, that's perfectly reasonable. We can set up a time for this next week. When would you be available?" inwardly Harry was going over his calendar. Monday… nothing, Tuesday… nothing, Wednesday… nothing… nothing… nothing. "I'm pretty much available as long as you give me notice." Who was he kidding?

By the amusement in Malfoy's eyes, he guessed that Malfoy must be aware of the Golden Boy's new hermit practices. "Wednesday morning then. 10:30? Splendid. Have a wonderful evening."

As Malfoy walked away, Harry realized that very little of that conversation had been confrontational. In fact, Malfoy had been… pleasant. _Have a wonderful evening._ Harry walked out with a small smile... actually looking forward to the next week.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After escaping, Harry quickly apparated to his flat. Although he wouldn't have minded spending the evening with Ron and Hermione, he really did prefer the comfort of solitude.

He'd only recently began escaping the mind-numbing thoughts of guilt, and he could now enjoy spending time alone with only his thoughts for company. Tonight, however, he needed solitude for very different reasons.

Snape's pensieve sat in a hidden cubby of his bedroom wall. He was sure that Snape would have disapproved of Harry keeping it so long, but Harry wasn't selfless enough to give it to anyone else. It had become a tradition of his, getting the pensieve out one night a year on the anniversary of Snape's death. Most others celebrated this night as an end to Voldemort's reign of madness. Harry wholeheartedly agreed with this viewpoint, but his favorite part of this day was really seeing Snape for who he was and honoring him for it. He'd even gone so far as to lie to the public when they asked to see Snape's thoughts themselves. 'Snape's pensieve? Oh, you must have heard false rumors… he used legilimens to show those thoughts to me. There's no way he would've trusted his thoughts to a pensieve…" Harry wouldn't allow Snape's memories to be intruded upon and defiled in such a way, neither was he selfless enough to give the pensieve to those who truly deserved it.

Getting out the pensieve, Harry swished it around some with his wand before slowly touching his nose to the swirling mist.

Much later, a half asleep Harry rose from the floor before collapsing in bed- he'd make sure to put the pensieve away in the morning.

The days passed quickly and before long it was Wednesday. Harry made sure to look extra fresh and pressed, hopefully this would make up for his haphazard appearance the last time he had met privately with Malfoy. Harry couldn't remember whether Malfoy had said to meet at Harry's or at his manor, but he assumed that the manor was the safest bet since Malfoy probably didn't even knew where Harry lived.

After a sharp knock, Harry was given a similar treatment to his last visit, though Malfoy didn't make him wait more than a minute.

"Ahhh, Potter, I'm please you could allow me a moment of your valuable time." Smirking, Malfoy once again sat across from Harry. "Before we get to the nitty-gritty details, I thought you might like a small snack. My houselves are, after all, the best cooks in all of England." A tray appeared on the side table with an assortment of hors d'oeuvres.

Despite Malfoy's cocky attitude, Harry was too tempted by the succulent morsels to refuse. Delighted by the first bite, Harry nearly moaned as he took another. In no time at all the tray was half empty, only then did Harry lick his finger and shift his gaze towards Malfoy. Strangely, Malfoy appeared transfixed… and not by Harry's voracious appetite. Slowly lowering his hand from his mouth, Harry averted his eyes and attempted to fight a blush. What was Malfoy trying to do to him!

Abruptly Malfoy stood. "We must be going. I have a meeting I need to attend later this afternoon and I'd like to spend as much time as possible looking over the artifacts.

One edge-of-the-seat cart ride later, they stood before the door that led to the Black family vaults. Unlike the one Harry's parents had left him, Sirius had a catacomb of rooms. Harry had never actually seen all doors, let alone the valuables in them. He'd had no real reason to. He held little value for the things Malfoy would no doubt treasure.

In fact, just watching him now, Malfoy's usually expressionless face was filled with rapture and determination- a welcome change.

The goblin- not one to waste time- made his way to the door and inserted the key Harry had given him earlier. Though the Black vaults were top security, the dragon they'd passed earlier did more to prevent thieves than any top-notch lock.

"Mr. Potter, you will find everything as it was when you last visited us. Can I be of any assistance today?"

"Actually," Harry considered, "do you know which rooms contain any family heirlooms of valuable artifacts?"

Draco shot Harry a sharp look that Harry had no hope of understanding.

The goblin however gave Harry a look so disproving that Harry felt the urge to apologize without even knowing what he did. "As you should already know, Mr. Potter, we do not delve into or categorize our patron's vaults." He snapped his fingers to light the torches down the corridor and nodded stiffly, "I shall wait here."


End file.
